


The Spire

by altairattorney



Category: Ghost Trick: Phantom Detective, Monument Valley (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Spoilers for both games, no precise setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-11
Updated: 2016-01-11
Packaged: 2018-05-13 07:05:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5699389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/altairattorney/pseuds/altairattorney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One answer in harmony, the other in discord. Such is the rule of numbers, she explains, and of the dual laws that weave all things into existence.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Spire

**Author's Note:**

  * For [plalligator](https://archiveofourown.org/users/plalligator/gifts).



> Extra treat for @plalligator, written as an entry for Ghost Swap 2015 @ fyeahghosttrick on Tumblr. Heavy spoilers for both Ghost Trick and Monument Valley!  
> Now, dear plalligator, I developed a different plan for my fill, but just couldn’t pass up the opportunity to write some Monument Valley! I was delighted to see your request. So why not?  
> I hope this, so to say, surreal dream isn’t too unsettling and/or obscure. Joining these two canons together is never easy, no matter how many common traits they have!  
> Have a looovely new year, and here’s to both fandoms getting lots of gorgeous art.

Somehow, they end up walking in the same dream.

They pace their way around a shimmering spire. As far as they can see, the ceramic it wears is paper-white, twin to the blank slate of their memory. The colours, or hints of them, only show much higher, where distant tiles they cannot yet distinguish are masked by snowy clouds.

They stop, placed at the opposite sides. Two spiraling paths climb up, all the way to the top. To each their door – and though they cannot see, their mind are closely tied to one another.

They recall next to nothing. Such is their fate. But the certainty shines through – if they work together, they will be reunited.

Long is their winding path, all stairs and twisted angles. She is the one to guide him through the musical rules of this lost world. He can only trust her; he is a no less a stranger to this dream than he is to the truth. 

The key lies in tuning their intellect in waves. One answer in harmony, the other in discord. Such is the rule of numbers, she explains, and of the dual laws that weave all things into existence.

To find each other, and their abandoned selves, they begin their journey in unison.

_I. WHAT YOU ARE._

_I don’t remember. But I will._

Correct. The inky letters open at their feet, to melt into new shapes. They flow up the steep flight of stairs, forming the solid shapes of the next arch.

The bronze door that welcomed them is gone. A thin veil covers the second entrance, and the breeze that shakes it draws illusory shapes just behind it.

Their ears collect the question. Their hearts, mournful and patient, answer it.

_II. THE TREASURE._

_I lost myself._

_I lost my life._  


Torn is the fabric, in the space of a heartbeat. The sound of ripped thread has the violence of their grief.

Yet, the tearful steps of white stone they cross are morphing into sharp, steady angles. Their perspective spirals flips over, bringing them to a structure that was built to be upside down.

It takes more strength, but their tempo stays solid.

_III. THE INTENTION._

_I want to make things right._

The stone of the new door blossoms open, with the fatigue and slowness every effort brings along. They cross it in due time, made stronger by their resolve. 

What lies ahead, in its giant columns and round squares, firmly resembles moving marble scales. They feel the world attune to their limbs, lighting their hearts with clarity.

It is there, in a whirlwind of new, shaky patterns, that they have to face different responsibilities.

_IV. THE CAUSE._

_I stole all knowledge from you. I know everything.  
_

_All I knew was stolen from me. I know nothing._

As the way opens, their field of vision is tinged in black and white. With every new movements, they blend into a soothing grey tone. Such is the world, the next passage reads – a mixture.

A fragile vessel is ready for both. It carries them far away, to the other side of a raging river, and they meet in between.

_V. THE SPIRIT._

_I will leave no stone unturned._

As soon as they set foot on the ground, the moss bends in smooth lines, pleasant and calm. They follow a sinuous trace up the wall, surrounded by raging colours. They are getting closer.

Both come to a halt before a mirror. They face two sides of a same surface, which is their final door. Impatient, yet careful, they each voice their beliefs.

_VI. THE REFLECTION._

_I see someone else._

_I don’t see anyone._

Under the weight of their words, the mirror cracks to pieces. It is right there, beyond the pile of shattered glass, that they can finally meet. They are left to face the reward to their efforts, with one thunderous voice booming in their heads.

TRUTH: YOU BOTH SEE YOURSELF.

 

The journey is complete. The spire ends in a meadow, with an enchanting sky of diamonds observing their bodies from above. They roam the summit happily, grateful to one another.

“I am a cat,” he sings.

“I am a bird,” she intones in response.

The path of their farewell, a precise curve, only meets at its peak. She proceeds to her realm, the heavens – he jumps down the spire, to reunite with the ground. To each their own.

The movements they trace in the air, elegant and light, solve the last standing doubt.

_VII. THE FINAL PLACE TO GO._

_We go back home._


End file.
